One By One
by SpecialAgentWho13
Summary: Tribute to Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None." Book need not be read, though. What happens when an average day turns into a terrible game where everyone's lives hang in the balance? Click to read more. Rated T for language and some violence.
1. Preface

This story is somewhat of a tribute to Agatha Christie's novel, "And Then There Were None." There are some differences though:

Nobody is going to die (at least not anybody important). They'll just be hurt.

It's going to be more modern, of course (her novel was published in 1939) and the Voice will talk more than once. They aren't being accused of murder by it though, it will taunt them.

It's at NCIS, not in a house on some mysterious island off the coast of Devon ;)

There won't be disappearing Indian boy figurines. There will be ten of something else that will disappear one by one.

They will be locked up so they can't wander around and look for their missing comrades

One of the ten will _not _be the mastermind. It will be some outside person because that would be difficult to write. (Oh yeah guys, you see, everyone's dead now and it was Abby all along. Guess someone should have listened when she said she could kill them and leave no forensic evidence, huh? No. Not gonna happen.)

And that's about it. Kind of big differences but you don't really want me to kill them all off, do you? And what if I had decided to make sweet old Ducky the mastermind behind the deaths? That wouldn't really work, would it? Just a warning, there _will _be Tiva and McAbby but not too much more than you see on the show because they will be separated at some point, you know. Okay, well if you are interested now and would like to read this just click on the little "next" button down there. Oh! And enjoy. ;)


	2. Chapter 1

Here's the first chapter. For those of you who are reading any of my other fics, I apologize for the delay in updates but it's summer break now so I promise I will update them eventually. Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Don't know when the next update will be. Tomorrow, if you're lucky. ;) Enjoy, I know it's short. The next chapters will be longer. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Let me know if there are any mistakes in here and I will be happy to fix them.

* * *

There were no cases and the morning was passing slowly, not just for Team Gibbs but for everyone in the squadroom. It was as if the criminals had mutually decided to take a vacation. On this particular morning, Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was doing paperwork while simultaneously observing his coworkers.

Timothy McGee was finished with his reports and was currently playing one of his computer games. Most likely the one in which he was an "elf lord," Tony decided. Newly Special Agent Ziva David was typing away at her keyboard whilst glaring at the computer monitor. He was about to ask why she was glaring when their boss, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, returned from his third coffee-run of the day. And it was only 0900.

Tony sighed. It wasn't as if he _wanted _a marine to be killed or anything. A simple kidnapping would do. Just _something_ that would get them out of the building and into the field. And away from his paperwork. He sighed again.

"Something wrong, To-ny?" Ziva asked him, stretching his name out like he often did with hers.

"What, Zee-vah?" Tony looked up from the screen of his computer and met the dark brown eyes of his partner.

"Well it is just that you have been sighing _continuously _for the past TEN minutes. It is getting on my nerves."

Tony opened his mouth to retaliate but Gibbs cut him off. "Don't fight her, DiNozzo. Just stop sighing and do your damn work."

"Yes, Boss." Tony glanced back to Ziva when Gibbs was no longer looking and glared at her. She smirked in response but said nothing.

"Knock it off, you two." Damn Gibbs. He saw everything. Sighing theatrically one more time, Tony returned his eyes to his work and finished up his final report.

He pressed SEND and smacked his palm flat on his desk. "DONE!" he shouted triumphantly. "HA! Beat that, David!"

With a smile, Ziva replied, "I have, _DiNozzo._ I finished my paperwork yesterday."

"What? Then what have you been doing all morning?" Tony asked her.

"Nothing, Tony."

"Suuuurrre. You watchin' porn or something, Ziva?" Tony teased.

"No."

"Well, then-"

"DiNozzo, stop bothering your partner."

"Yes, Boss."

The squadroom quieted down again. It was then that Tony noticed the bullpen was nearly empty. Only he, Ziva, Gibbs, McGee, and two other agents across the room were there. It was strangely silent. Until the elevator _ding_ed and the clomp-clomping of platform boots filled the room.

"Hey, guys! Boring day, huh?" Abby was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in the center of the bullpen. Ducky and Palmer had trailed in after her and were now standing at the entrance next to Tony and Ziva's desks. There was a big grin on the eccentric goth's face.

"Abs," Gibbs said. "How many Caf-Pow!s you had today?"

"Probably not nearly as many coffees as _you've _had," she replied, eyeing his current coffee cup. At his look she quickly answered, "Two…and a half."

"Hey, Abby," McGee said, finally looking up from his game.

"Hi, Timmy!" She ran the short distance to his desk and enveloped the agent in a bone-crushing hug.

"Ah, Abby? I think you might wanna let go. Poor Probie's turning McPurple," Tony said with a laugh.

"Oh! Sorry, McGee." Abby released him and his face returned to its natural color as he gave a sigh of relief. Everyone in the bullpen laughed.

"Does anybody smell that?" Ziva asked suddenly.

"Smell what?" Tony replied.

"It's-" But she was cut off as the lights suddenly went out. All the special agents stood to withdraw their guns when some faint thumping noises sounded and smoke and gas filled the squadroom. There was no time to react as everyone suddenly collapsed and their worlds went black.

* * *

Okay, how was it? Hope you liked it. Reviews are welcomed, of course! Thanks for reading! :)

~**NZA**


	3. Chapter 2

Update! This is my favorite story to write, I think. I like to write my story "DavidDiNozzo" too, I guess. Anyways, heres chapter 2! Read, review, and enjoy please! :)

* * *

They came to in MTAC, slowly. Gibbs regained consciousness before the others and he took a headcount. Ten of them, including himself. The only light was faint and coming from somewhere above the large MTAC screen. It was too dark to make out who was who but he had a good guess.

It was only a matter of minutes until everyone was awake.

"Boss? That you?" Tony whispered loudly. He checked his body for injuries but found only that all of his weapons were missing and his ankles were strapped to the chair he was in.

"Yeah, DiNozzo, it's me. Who else is here?"

"Me, Boss," came McGee's voice from somewhere to his left.

"Gibbs!" a frightened Abby exclaimed.

"What the hell happened?" he heard Vance ask behind him.

"Oh dear," Ducky moaned.

"Are you alright, Doctor?" Palmer.

"Yes, quite alright, Mr. Palmer. I'm just too damn old for this kind of thing."

"I told you I smelled something, Tony," they heard Ziva say. She seems to be the farthest away, Gibbs thought. He squinted and was able to make out her slim form near one of the desks to the left of the room. He deduced that she was most likely chained or tied to it. Who were the other two he counted, though?

"Did anyone else get their weapons taken?" It sounded like Special Agent Pete Gosweiler.

"Pete?" Tony said. "Is that you? Yeah, my weapons are missing too."

A chorus of "mine too"s was heard.

"Anyone know what's going on?" A female voice, Special Agent Laura Albritton, who was on the same team as Gosweiler.

"Hey, Laura, you okay?" Pete asked.

"Yeah, fine, thanks."

It was silent for a few minutes until Jimmy, noticing something, spoke up. "Hey, what are those?"

"What are what, Palmer?" Tony replied.

"Those things, hanging on the ceiling. Where the light is coming from, above the big screen? See them?"

"Yeah," McGee said. "I don't know. You're closer than me."

"If was lighter…" Gibbs grunted.

"They were never there before," Director Vance commented.

"Well, what are they?" Tony asked.

"There are ten of them," Abby and Ducky said at the same time.

"They are dolls," Ziva announced.

"Dolls?" Tony repeated. "How do you know, Zee-vah?"

"Because, _Tony_. I am nearly right below them."

"You sure they're dolls, Ziva?" Gibbs questioned.

"I think Special Agent David is right," Albritton, who was the closest after Ziva, spoke up.

"Of course I am right. What else would they be? Miniature corpses?" Ziva retorted sarcastically.

"This reminds me of the 1987 movie, _Dolls_," Tony said suddenly. "What happens is there's this group of people whose cars 'break down' and-"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs interrupted. "This isn't the time for one of your damn movie references. If my legs weren't tied to this chair I'd head-slap you right now. Be quiet."

"Yes, Boss. Hey, how come Ziva's the only one on the floor? HA! How is it, Zee-vah? Nice and comfy?"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs was getting irritated with the senior field agent.

"Oh yes, Tony, _quite_." Ziva's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "When we get out of here, I am going to-"

Just then, an eerie chuckle filled the room and everyone fell silent and stared at where they knew the speakers were located.

"Hello, everyone." The Voice was disguised and sounded electronic to their ears.

"Hello, Creepy Voice," Tony replied. Gibbs had an incredible urge to head-slap the younger man. If only he wasn't tied to this damned chair.

"Cute, Agent DiNozzo, but I suggest you stay quiet while I speak. Understand? Good. I have decided to play a game. It will be fun, I assure you. Well, for my men and myself anyway." Another eerie chuckle echoed through the room.

"What did you do with everyone else in the building?" Vance asked.

"Not to worry, Director Vance. They have been drugged and evacuated from the building. They won't remember a thing. And don't expect help to come anytime soon, nobody will be able to get in. Now, then, are we ready to begin the game? Of course we are." The speakers crackled and the room fell silent.

"What the fu-"

"DiNozzo."

"Being quiet, Boss."

Before anything else could be said, the lights above the screen abruptly went out and the room was bathed in darkness. They heard noises around them and they kept quiet, unsure of what was happening. After a minute, there was a thud and the sound of doors shutting and the lights came back on almost as quickly as they had shut off, only this time it was the brighter ones and they allowed everyone to see more clearly.

Confused and a bit frightened, the NCIS workers blinked their eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. When they had regained composure they glanced around at each other.

"What just happened?" Tony asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Gibbs! What's going on?" A frantic Abby questioned. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, leaving trails of black mascara in their wake.

"I don't know, Abs."

"Uhh..guys?" McGee spoke up. They turned to him and saw that he was staring above the big screen. Where the dolls were hanging. "I thought you said there were ten of them?"

"Heh. Ziva was right, they are dolls. Creepy," Tony said. "Is that all they did in the dark? Take a doll?"

"Hey…" Agent Albritton began. "Where _is_ Agent David?"

"Oh my God!" Abby gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as fresh tears began to roll down her face. "They took Ziva!"

Another eerie laugh was heard and MTAC became dead silent.

"_Ten NCIS agents locked in MTAC and fine_

_The lights went out and then there were nine._

"Quite poetic, am I not?" The Voice snickered and then the speakers crackled and went silent once more.

* * *

So it was only like 300 words longer than the last chapter but it was still longer and longer is good, right? Right. Hope you guys liked this chapter and I hope I get more readers soon ;) I have a feeling that the next chapter will be longer and *GASP* will be up sometime tomorrow! That will be a record for me as far as multi-chaptered fics go. (Besides chronicley (not a real word) fics anyways). Thanks for reading! :D

~**NZA**


	4. Chapter 3

I noticed something strange about FFN. When I upload this is says I have 1,110 words but Word says I only have 1,069. Weird. Okay anyway, here's the next chapter so enjoy! Sorry I didn't get it up yesterday but I was sent to bed before I could finish it. Ah well, at least I got it up early today right? Not even 10 a.m. yet. Hope you like the chapter! Reviews are very much appreciated! And thanks to my one reviewer and the couple of people who subscribed/favorited this fic! :)

* * *

There was a shocked silence after the speakers had gone silent. No one knew what to think, much less say. Finally, a tearful Abby spoke up, her voice shaky.

"What did they do with Ziva?" she asked tentatively.

"I don't know, Abs. We just gotta hope she's okay," Gibbs replied in an effort to comfort the worried forensic scientist, though he himself was also worried.

"Does anyone know who the hell this dude is?" Pete Gosweiler asked.

"I don't have a clue," Albritton replied sullenly. The ropes binding her legs the seat were starting to chafe. She wished she hadn't worn a skirt today.

"Me neither," Tony replied, stretching his arms. "Wish I could stand up. My legs are getting stiff," he complained.

"Be quiet, Tony," McGee said. "There are more important matters at hand than the comfort of your legs."

"Whatever, McMoron. What are we supposed to do about these 'important matters'? Politely ask Mr. Creepy Voice to give Ziva back and let us leave? Yeah. Not gonna happen." The sarcasm was evident in Tony's voice.

"Be nice to Timmy, Tony," Abby commanded. "He's just trying to help figure things out. Right, McGee?"

"Right. Thanks, Abby."

"Okay," Vance said, putting a stop to the bickering before they could take it any further. "Back to Agent Gosweiler's question. Does anyone have an answer? Gibbs? Your team seems to attract a lot of trouble. Got any ideas?"

"I resent that," Tony said, acting as though he was deeply offended.

"How many times do I have to tell you to shut up, DiNozzo?"

"This is the last time, Boss. Shutting up for good." Tony sighed and leaned back into his chair. They weren't too uncomfortable, he decided. He could sleep in it if he had too.

"Gibbs?" Vance asked, trying to get the focus back on his question. "Any ideas?"

"Nope, Leon, I don't. I don't think we've dealt with this guy before, though." Gibbs glared at the speakers in the corner of the ceiling.

"It could be a terrorist," Palmer offered.

"Voice didn't sound like it had an accent but it's possible," Gosweiler replied.

"Well maybe the next time our creepy friend talks, we'll get more information," Abby said. She had stopped crying a few minutes ago but she still sniffled occasionally.

"Hopefully," Ducky agreed.

Tony started coughing. "Hey," he sniffed the air and coughed some more. "Anyone smell that?"

"It's the smoke again!" Abby cried.

The lights flickered off and the ones above the big screen came back on. The sound of nearly-silent footsteps reached their ears and they had no time to react before syringes were plunged into their shoulders and the nine NCIS agents lost consciousness.

Ziva woke up in daze. Her head was pounding and it felt as though she had recently knocked back 15 shots of tequila. One of her arms was broken and she was bleeding in several places from various cuts and a gunshot wound to the thigh. Probing the wounded area, Ziva found that someone had tied some sort of cloth tightly around it to stanch the blood flow.

She was desperately trying to remember what had happened as she slowly became more aware of her surroundings and suddenly it all came back to her in a rush. Smelling something. Blacking out. Waking up tied to an MTAC desk. The dolls. The Voice. And then this. She hoped everyone else was doing better than she was.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ziva glanced around and just then realized where she was. They, whoever _they _were, had tied her up and locked her in the squadroom maintenance closet. The fact that she was tied to a stationary shelf told her that they knew she would try to escape, even with a bullet in her leg.

Ziva sighed. Who is doing this? she wondered. A shuffling noise in the corner of the small room caught her attention and she snapped her head up, squinting in the general direction of the sound. Ziva stopped breathing for a moment and strained her ears in an effort to hear better but the noise didn't come again. Her heart was pounding and she made attempts to calm herself down so her leg would not start bleeding again. That would not be good, considering she was unsure of how much blood she had already lost.

A booted foot suddenly came smashing down on her injured thigh and Ziva cursed herself for not being more observant before. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to cry out as the pain spread through her entire body. It only got worse as the owner of the boot-clad foot brought a stun gun down on her leg and within seconds, the ex-Mossad officer's vision swam and she passed out.

They came to in MTAC for the second time that day. The overhead lights were back on and they glanced at each other and then the dolls hanging above the screen. There were only eight of them now. And Ducky was missing.

Abby and Palmer were slightly frantic and everyone was talking over each other.

"Hey!" Gibbs yelled into the commotion. "Fighting and panicking will get us nowhere! Got it?" Everyone stopped talking and nodded their heads.

"Gibbs is right. We need to think logically about this people," Vance agreed.

"Maybe Ducky and Ziva are okay. Maybe they just locked them up someplace else to scare us?" McGee suggested half-heartedly.

"Possibly," Albritton said. "If we can get out of here, maybe we can find them."

"We don't have any weapons," Tony replied. "How are we supposed to fight off Creepy Voice and his goonies?"

"Good point," Gosweiler said with a sigh.

"We'll figure something out," Gibbs told them, not ready to give up just yet. Ziva and Ducky could be injured and there was nothing he could do. He wanted to break out of his bindings and find the sick bastard who was doing this. Gibbs swore he'd kill the man whenever he got the chance.

They quieted down when the speakers began to crackle again and a familiar computerized chuckle reached their ears. "Hello, everyone. Hope you're feeling okay after your little drug-induced nap. I have more of the poem for you.

"_Nine NCIS agents who are rather irate_

_We drugged them unconscious and then there were eight_"

"That's all for now, friends. Have fun." And the speakers quieted once again.

* * *

Mmmkay. How was it? Hopefully not as bad as I felt it was. Anyway, thanks for reading. Don't know when I will update again. Possibly to day if I have the time or if I am in the mood. Reviews make me happy! Thanks. :)

~**NZA**


	5. Chapter 4

All I have to say is that I'm so incredibly sorry for the delay in updates. I've been really busy with school and have not even THOUGHT about writing new chapters. So here's a new one. Enjoy!

P.S. Sorry the quality of the text is kind of crappy. I wrote this on my iPod and uploaded it from my phone and there's not a lot of editing I can do on either so I made it look as good as I could. -

* * *

Ducky woke up to find himself tied to an autopsy table. His vision was blurry momentarily but eventually it cleared and he could see the clock in the corner of the room. A quarter after eleven. How long had he and the others been subjected to this hell so far? He had lost track of the time. The elderly M.E. sighed. At least the only torture he'd received thus far was being made to lay on cold, uncomfortable autopsy table. But for how long? He wished he knew, he was far too old for this sort of thing.

* * *

"Irate?" Pete Gosweiler spoke as soon as the room was quiet once again.  
"He's got a broad vocabulary, I guess," Albritton commented quietly.  
"Oh my God." It was Abby again. "Oh my God! What if he's KILLED Ducky and Ziva? Gibbs! Don't you have a plan yet?"  
"Calm down, Abs. Everyone calm down. It doesn't seem like we're getting out of here anytime soon so we're just gonna have to be patient. Got it?" It was apparent to everyone that Gibbs was growing more pissed off by the minute.  
"Good," Vance said when nobody made another sound. "Now maybe we can get back to figuring out who this bastard could be. Anyone come up with any ideas yet?"  
"Nope." "No." "None." "Nada."  
Everyone gave a collective sigh.  
"Hey guys, do you hear that?" Palmer had been quiet since Ducky disappeared so his voice startled a few of them. "It sounds like sirens."  
"Yeah, I hear them too!" McGee said, becoming excited.  
They all began speaking at once and the noise in the room grew to the point where they didn't even hear someone slip silently into the room and hold a chloroform-soaked rag over the director's face. He didn't have time to shout before he was dragged out of the room.  
Gibbs heard a door behind him shut just as the lights went out again. After a moment, the ones above the big screen flickered on and he was able to see that they, the bad guys, had managed to take another doll, leaving just seven dangling there. Which meant, in all the commotion over what were probably fake sirens, another of them had been taken.  
It had to be Vance, Gibbs thought. He was the closest to the door and only he could have been taken without anyone noticing, seeing as their backs were to the door.  
Gibbs was about to let everyone know when the electronic chuckle they had come to despise filled the room.  
"Did you enjoy my little distraction, friends? I sure did. Here's more of the poem for you:

"Eight NCIS agents that aren't going to heaven They became distracted and then there were seven"

"TTFN. Tah tah for now!" And yet again, the speakers crackled and went silent.

Tony tried to look around him for the newly missing member of their group, but to no avail. It was still too dark to make out all the remaining faces. "Who-?"  
"Vance." Gibbs stated solemnly.

* * *

Ziva had lost track of how many times she'd drifted in and out if consciousness but she knew it had to be more than five. She had suffered some tremendous blood loss after what her attacker had done but she knew for a fact that he was gone now, as she had heard him leave several minutes ago, and she was able to relax, however slightly.  
She hoped the others were doing better than she was. If the man, Creepy Voice, as Tony called him, was following a pattern, more people should have been taken from MTAC and hidden somewhere in the building by now. Who else might be being tortured at that very moment? Ziva wondered. Tony? Gibbs? Abby? Or Ducky? He wasn't getting any younger, she knew, and just how much torture he could handle, if any, couldn't amount to much.  
She realized she was worrying and forced herself to calm down. The last thing she needed was to pass out or die from more blood loss. Leaning her head back against the shelving, Ziva allowed her mind to wander before she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Sorry it's not very long. Don't know when I'll be able to upload again. Consider this an early Halloween present. Thanks for reading and reviews might compel me to write faster!  
~NZA


	6. Chapter 5

Okay, first off I'd like to apologize for the delay in updating. I had pre-written the whole poem on my iPod and had the lines all ready to go for each chapter, but somehow, half the notes on my iPod got deleted, and that was one of them. So unfortunately, I had to rewrite it and it isn't nearly as good as before, but oh well. Anyway, thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I tried to make it long but I just can't seem to be able to do that with this story. I have a lot of free time this week (spring break) so I may even post another chapter later on. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

P.S. If you also enjoy the show BONES, feel free to check out my NCIS/Bones crossover story "Perilous Plights," which can be found in the crossover section of this site.

~NZA

Vance slowly blinked his eyes as his vision began to clear. His head hurt like hell from being whacked by one of their captors and he probably had a concussion. As he looked around, he realized they had locked him back up in his office and chained him to his desk with handcuffs. His ankles were bound with the same rope their arms and legs had been in MTAC.

Who the hell did this guy think he was, holding the director of NCIS and nine of his agents hostage? As soon as they got out of this mess, that 'Creepy Voice' guy was going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble. Agent David was locked up god-knows-where so that left Gibbs as the only one in MTAC who might be able to break out of his bindings. And hopefully he would manage to do so soon.

* * *

Ducky was growing restless. He wasn't able to move much at all, as the kidnappers had tightly restrained his torso, arms, and legs. His muscles were getting sore and stiff and this was taxing on his elderly body, he had to admit. He knew they had been there for at least five hours now, and he had been tied up in Autopsy for at least two. Ducky just prayed that Jethro would find a way to get them out of this. He always did.

* * *

"I have to pee," Tony stated, moaning and shifting in his chair.

"Suck it up, DiNozzo. The three of them could be dying and all you're thinkin' about is your bladder," Gibbs growled.

"Sucking it up, Boss. And stop laughing Gosweiler, I can hear you down there." Tony slouched back in his seat, a pout on his face.

The overhead lights were back on, making it easier for them to see. Also making it easier for the seven remaining voodoo-like dolls to mock them. Their friends… and Vance… could be hurt or dead and there was nothing they could do but sit in MTAC, wrists and ankles chafing on the ropes restraining them to the chairs.

"Gibbs," Abby called tentatively.

"Yeah, Abs?"

"You don't think they're actually dying, do you?" He couldn't see her face, but she was shaking and he could only assume she was crying.

"They're not dead Abs. They'll be alright," Gibbs reassured her. He wished he could give her his usual peck on the cheek and a Caf-Pow! to comfort her, but he couldn't. I could really use a coffee right now, he thought.

"Okay." Abby sniffled and leaned back in her seat resignedly.

Just as the room was settling back into a dejected silence, the lights went out and the doors behind them crashed open. Men wearing all black walked in, each carrying an agent's Sig Sauer. One by one, the men rammed the butts of the guns into their faces, knocking them all unconscious.

* * *

Ziva was quickly losing all of her energy. She didn't know how many times she could fall unconscious before she simply stayed that way or died. The man from earlier still had yet to return and for that, at least, she was grateful.

Groaning, Ziva leaned over and vomited. This had been the second time and her stomach was now completely empty, she was sure. She needed some food and water soon or her condition was just going to worsen. And try as she might, she could not break free of the handcuffs locking her to the shelf. Ziva was left with nothing to do but hope that Gibbs would get them out of this like he always does.

* * *

Everyone's head began to throb as they regained consciousness. Who had been taken this time? Some of them glanced up and, sure enough, there were now only six dolls suspended from the ceiling. The lights were back on as well. They looked around, discerning who was missing. McGee no longer sat in his seat. He was gone.

Unsurprisingly, the speakers began to crackle. The eerie electronic chuckle filled their ears and agitated their minds. This guy was never going to quit.

"Hello, everyone. I hope you are not suffering over Agent McGee's absence. He didn't speak much anyway. I was getting bored of him." Creepy Voice paused. "Now, who is ready for the next bit of my poem? Here it goes…

_Seven NCIS agents displeased with my tricks,_

_We cold-cocked them all and there were six._"

As the voice continued to taunt them, Gibbs began to fiddle with his restraints, testing their strength and durability. It was possible that he would be able to break free.

"Anyway, my friends, that's all I have to say for now," the Voice said, sounding almost disappointed. "Be seeing you." And it was silent once more.


	7. Chapter 6

Here is chapter six! I tried to make it a little long because I don't know when I'll be updating next. Probably not until summer so sorry. But please enjoy this chapter!

~NZA

* * *

A white hot pain shot up McGee's arm when he tried to move it. Where was he? It felt as though an elephant had been tap dancing on his face. There was definitely going to be a bruise. Probably a black eye. He remembered the lights going out in MTAC and then being hit with something, so he must have been knocked unconscious. Then he woke up here. But where was here?

He slowly glanced around, careful not to jostle his arm. The lighting wasn't very good but from what he could tell, he was handcuffed to a desk in the Cyber Crimes Unit. So he was still alive, which meant Vance, Ducky, and Ziva probably were as well. He gave a small sigh of relief.

They were alive now, he reminded himself. But what happened at the end of this terrible game? Eventually, everyone would be separated and what then? Would Creepy Voice and his men simply kill them all? Or would they leave and let people find them chained up in various rooms?

Tim tried to focus on the big picture but it was hard to ignore the throbbing in his arm. He attempted to get a better look at it in the dim light and found that there was a three inch long gash running along his forearm. His skin and shirt were crusted with dry blood but the cut didn't seem very deep and no longer appeared to be bleeding. That was good at least, McGee told himself. He shifted his feet under him, trying to stand, but collapsed as another pain shot up his leg and he groaned.

"Must have sprained my ankle somehow," he whispered. Suddenly, he heard a footstep and then there was a pricking sensation in his neck. His world went black.

* * *

"Oh my God! They took McGee!" Abby cried.

"It'll be alright, Abby," Palmer tried.

"No! No, it won't, this is terrible. How could anyone do this? Ziva, she's strong and she's a fighter and Vance, he strikes me as the kind of guy to fight too. But Ducky! He's just a friendly old man, he can't fight for himself! Remember that time he was kidnapped by that crazy mortician? And McGee, oh McGee. Timmy's just… Timmy. He works with computers and he writes books about his coworkers, though he won't admit it, and he's just a softie. He won't-"

"Abs," Gibbs interrupted, "McGee's a good agent. He'll be okay."

"Yeah. He's a fighter, just like the rest of us," Tony reassured.

"You really think they're all okay?" Abby sniffed and tried to wipe her tears on her shoulder.

"Of course they'll be okay. Because they aren't allowed to be anything but," Palmer, surprisingly, stated with certainty.

"And as soon as this bastard makes one mistake, he's gonna wish he was never born," said Pete Gosweiler.

Abby sniffed again. "Thanks guys."

"No problem," Gosweiler replied. "This guy bruised my beautiful face and for that, he's going to pay."

"Oh, shut up, Pete." Albritton laughed.

* * *

Vance was starting to lose feeling in his arms. He shifted positions but it did no good. He'd always liked his office, with its nice view of the harbor and his own private liquor cabinet. Except for when Gibbs or one of his agents burst in, it was somewhat of a quiet sanctuary for him.

He glanced over at the photograph of his son and daughter, Jared and Kayla, with his wife Jackie. He missed them already. They would know soon about what was happening here, if they hadn't found out already. He hoped they hadn't, and that Jared and Kayla were enjoying their day at school and that his wife was enjoying her day at work. He didn't want them to be worried about him. He had argued with Jared that morning about getting a skateboard. Would they ever get to make up? he wondered. He didn't want to die without apologizing to his boy. And he especially didn't want to die without getting the chance to say goodbye.

Whoever these kidnappers were, their prison sentences- if they even made it out alive- were going to be very long.

* * *

Ducky wished he could get up and stretch. Unfortunately, it appeared that that was not going to be happening anytime soon. He was thankful that his mother was no longer in need of care. How long they would be held here, he didn't know, and she would have been terribly upset if he hadn't shown up on time.

If only Mr. Palmer were here, he mused. Then at least he would have someone to tell one of his drawn-out stories too. And he had a feeling that in this case, anyone listening would have done so attentively for a change.

* * *

"Uh oh." Tony groaned as the lights went out again. This couldn't be anything good. His face hurt, his wrists hurt, some of his friends were missing, and he was just not in a good mood. And he had a feeling that none of the others were either.

But this time was different. No distraction, no knock to the face with the butt of a gun, no drugs injected into their bloodstream, no knockout gas. Just three men in dark clothing that burst through the doors of MTAC. One moved toward the dolls and removed one, exiting just as quickly as he had appeared. The other two moved to Abby's hunched over figure and began untying her bindings.

"Gibbs!" she screamed. "Help me! Gibbs!"

"Abby!" Gibbs struggled against his bindings but it was no use. He hadn't gotten them loose enough yet.

Abby screamed again as the two men struggled to drag her out of the room. Finally, getting fed up, one of them pulled an object from their waste and clubbed her with it. She went limp and silent instantly.

Gibbs was pissed. He struggled more but succeeded only in badly chafing his wrists. Behind him, he heard the doors slam shut. "Damn it!" he yelled, ramming his arm down on the chair's armrest.

The speakers crackled. The sound of the electronic chuckle bounced around the room. "Calm down now, Agent Gibbs."

"You bastard!" Gibbs shouted. He banged on the armrest again.

"Shhhhh." It sounded more like static coming over the speaker. "Cheer up everyone. I have more of the poem for you to enjoy…

_Six NCIS agents still well and alive,_

_We snagged one more and then there were five."_

They heard rustling, as though Creepy Voice was moving around wherever he was. "If you'll excuse me now, I must go," he said. "It seems there was a problem with your Agent David. Tenacious little thing. Tried to escape. Now she must be punished. Goodbye."

Tony emitted an angry grunt. Hopefully Ziva would be okay.

Gibbs's gut churned. These guys were going to die.

* * *

_Click._ Ziva grinned. She did it. She reveled momentarily in the silence following the click as the handcuffs chaining her to the shelf came unlocked. Now to just get out of here and help the others.

Preparing herself for the inevitable pain, Ziva gripped the edge of the shelf and slowly pulled herself to standing. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through the intense burning sensation in her leg. After a minute, she tested her weight on the injured leg. It didn't feel broken but the gunshot wound hurt like hell. But it wasn't anything she hadn't had before and so she set all thoughts of pain aside.

Slowly and silently, Ziva limped to the door of the maintenance closet. As gently as she could, she began to turn the knob and pull open the door a crack. She peeked through the slit but could barely see anything. The hall outside the closet was barely lit. Opening the door just wide enough for her body to slip through, Ziva made her way out into the dark hallway.

Big mistake. Just as she came out, one of Creepy Voice's men rounded the corner, spotting her.

"Hey!" he yelled. He ran towards her and Ziva tried to run as well but her leg made that nearly impossible. She had to fight him. As soon as he grabbed her, she twisted his arm away and flipped him over her shoulder. The effort made her leg give out and she toppled onto him with a grunt. This gave the man the opportunity to overpower her and he took it with gusto, pulling a nightstick from his waist and bringing it down on the back of her head with all of the force he could muster.

All Ziva heard before blacking out was a quiet _tsk tsking_ sound and heavy footsteps moving slowly towards her.


	8. Chapter 7

"Punished? What the hell does he mean by 'punished'?" Tony growled angrily.

"Damn it, David," Gibbs whispered. "Why are you always getting into trouble?"

"Guys?" Palmer asked warily. "What do you think they're doing with them?"

"They're not dead, Palmer," Gibbs state gruffly.

"I-"

"I feel it in my gut."

They were silent for a moment. Tony, of course, was the one to break it.

"Well, this is officially the worst game ever. It would make a great movie though. Add a little dramatic music and-"

"DiNozzo, if I wasn't stuck in this chair I'd smack ya so hard there wouldn't be anything left of you to for them to take. Now, shut up."

"Yes, Boss. I'll try harder to keep quiet this time." Tony fidgeted in his seat, now even more fearful for his life.

"Isn't there anyone outside with the balls to just shoot down this guy's guards? Why don't they just bust in, guns blazing?" asked Gosweiler. "What have they got to lose?"

"How about our lives, Pete?" Albritton retorted. "Don't be stupid. You know they can't do that."

"Yeah, I know. It's just- How hard is it to get some rescue in here? I mean, does anyone even know what's going on?"

"They have to," Jimmy replied. "Right?"

"Well, if they do," Albritton said, "they aren't doing a very good job."

* * *

Abby moaned as her eyes flickered open. Her head was throbbing, but other than that, she didn't feel any other injuries. After a moment of letting her head clear, the Goth scientist took stock of her surroundings.

And began to panic when she realized she was hanging from a net in the middle of her lab. The lights were on, so at least she could see, though she wasn't exactly sure that was a good thing as she spotted every sharp instrument in her lab pointing straight up from the floor below her. They must have used her super sticky super glue to stick them- pointy end up- to the ground. If she fell from the net, she was sure to be impaled.

* * *

Pain. She couldn't feel anything but pain. It was like a white hot fire burning throughout her body. Ziva couldn't remember ever feeling this much _pain_. Except, maybe, in Somalia. But it was hard to think of anything else.

Slowly, she attempted to push herself up off the floor, only succeeding in lifting her up an inch before giving up- for the moment, anyway. What could be causing her so much pain? she wondered. She should not have just walked right out of the closet. It was stupid, careless. Two things she liked to think she was not. But that didn't change the fact that she had done it. And now she was back in the closet, sprawled out on the floor, and in much greater pain than she had been before. At least she wasn't chained up this time, Ziva thought grimly, though it didn't much make a difference if she was unable to move. What the _hell_ was wrong with her?

Slowly and tentatively, Ziva began to flex the fingers of her right hand, then bend her right elbow, then rotate her shoulder. It hurt, but not enough to stop her, and so she carefully began probing her old wounds and looking for the new ones that were causing her to hurt so badly.

The gunshot wound to her thigh seemed to have finally stopped bleeding for good. It was a through and through, she figured, and hadn't hit anything vital. As she moved her hand gently up her torso, elbow burning in protest, she found the source of the new pain. Several deep gashes littered her abdomen, the flesh surrounding them torn and bloody, like something had just come in and started taking bites out of her. And she was no longer wearing a shirt either. Great.

* * *

When McGee came to, he found that the gash on his arm had started bleeding again.

"Wonderful," he whispered. He flexed his sore muscles, gritting his teeth against the pain this caused. Luckily, his only new injuries appeared to be some bruises on his other arm, in the shape of a hand, as though someone had gripped his arm tightly and dragged him. And they had, he realized. He was now chained to a filing cabinet on the opposite end of the room. Why this was, McGee was not sure, but he was thankful at least that he was not badly hurt. He hoped the same could be said for the others.

* * *

They hadn't been waiting long when the lights went out again. No one was surprised to find themselves growing drowsy as a faint sweet smell filled their nostrils. As suddenly as the smell had appeared, it was gone, and they were out cold.

* * *

It was completely silent when they woke up. Gibbs didn't need his gut to tell him that it was Tony who had been taken. The team leader glanced around the now brightly lit room and the sight of Tony's empty seat confirmed that. Another doll was missing as well.

Gibbs sighed and found himself hoping this 'game' would be over soon. And that they would all survive it.

It came as no surprise when the speakers once again crackled to life.

"Hello again, my darling playthings," the Voice said cheerfully. "How are we doing, hmm? Worry not, I once again have your Agent David under control. Now, who is ready for more of the poem?" The speaker emitted an odd noise that Gibbs assumed to be the sound of Creepy Voice clearing his throat.

"_Five NCIS agents still waiting for more,_

_They were put back to sleep and then there were four._

And we're done again. For now, anyway," the Voice chuckled. "Adios amigos."

The speakers quieted. Silence reigned once more.

* * *

I like reviews, don't you? ;) Thanks for reading! Next update probably won't be until late June or early July, sorry.


	9. Chapter 8

Okay, okay. ONE more chapter. _Now_ you have to wait until US summer for the next update. Only about four or five more chapters after this and then this fic will be done! Enjoy. I'm not loving how this chapter turned out but oh well.

~NZA

* * *

Abby whimpered. Her position in the net was becoming uncomfortable and her head was beginning to throb painfully. She'd taken a severe blow to the back of the skull when the men had tried to drag her out of MTAC and Abby was fairly certain she now had a concussion. For the past hour the Goth scientist had been forcing herself to remain awake, for fear that the concussion was more severe than it seemed.

Thus far, she had not seen any other people or heard anything but the slow tick of the clock in her office. She could see Bert the hippo from where she hung in the net and wished that she could retrieve him and hold him tightly. She longed for anything- or anyone- that would bring her just the slightest bit of comfort. She wanted to see her friends, the people she considered family, again. She longed to know that they were okay.

Carefully shifting her position in the net, Abby angrily wiped at a few stray tears. Crying would do her no good. She needed to think. She needed to find a way out of here.

* * *

When Tony regained consciousness he found himself chained to his own desk in the squadroom. He yanked on the metal bindings, and then let out involuntary cry of pain. His shoulder was dislocated. Again. The senior agent found himself wondering just how many times he could endure this same injury before his arm eventually just detached itself from his body. His face was swollen as well, from where he'd been whacked with the butt of a gun. But other than a split lip and a few minor flesh wounds, he could find no new injuries.

Looking up and behind him at his desktop, Tony contemplated whether he would be able to reach the GSM magazine sitting there. He decided it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot and so, using the strength in his legs, he slowly slid his back up the desk until he was in a squat, then a position vaguely reminiscent of a wall sit. This left his head and part of his neck above the level of his desk. Slowly, he pushed himself up more and tilted his head back towards the desktop, using the back of his head to feel around until he found the magazine. Smiling, he pressed his head down on it and, thighs burning, gently slid back down until his head cleared the edge of the desk and the magazine fell between his back and the desk. From here, Tony simply used his butt to slide the magazine toward his feet so he could open it. He gave a triumphant, somewhat incredulous laugh and browsed the first article happily. At least he would not get bored while waiting to be rescued.

* * *

Gibbs shifted in his seat and continued to work carefully at his wrist bindings. He had gradually felt them grow looser as the hours passed but it wasn't going remotely fast enough for his liking. All of his team was gone and, save for a few hushed and brief conversations he could barely discern between Gosweiler and Albritton, MTAC was completely silent. They were all waiting in various states of fear and apprehension of what was to inevitably come.

But what happened after the lights went out this time was unexpected for all of them. As soon as the room was enveloped in darkness, they heard running footsteps that stopped only momentarily near the big screen before starting up again and fading away out the opposite door they had entered from. They did not expect the sound of a single gunshot to ring out, then to hear the unmistakable sound of a bullet imbedding itself in someone's skull.

* * *

The report of the gunshot startled Vance out of a light sleep.

He suddenly felt dread at what this could mean. Had any of his people been shot? If so, which one? He sincerely hoped it wasn't any of them, especially Gibbs' team. They were a close knit group and he had a feeling that if one of them died, most or all of the rest would eventually leave. They were some of his best people and NCIS couldn't afford to lose them. Plus, he had to admit, he was kind of almost starting to like these people he was forced to work with every day.

* * *

"Oh God!" Pete Gosweiler shouted once the reverberations of the shot had quieted. "Holy shit. What the hell?"

At that moment, the lights came back on and even Gibbs was shocked to see the bloody, shattered skull of Laura Albritton. Blood and brain matter covered several of the surfaces surrounding her corpse, including Jimmy, who had been sitting in the row directly behind her. His glasses, clothing, and face were spattered with blood and bits of brain. The poor kid looked horrified, despite all of the experience he had had with gore and dead bodies. It was just different when it was up close and personal.

"Shit. Oh God, no. Laura! Jeez." Pete was frantic, shaking in his chair. His teammate had just been murdered in cold blood. One of Creepy Voice's goons had just shot her in the head.

A burning fury rushed through him when the familiar eerie chuckle bounced off the walls of MTAC. He yanked furiously at his bindings until his wrists started to bleed and he finally stopped, becoming silent as the Voice started to speak.

"Now, now, Pete," it chided. "Don't be so distraught. Laura Albritton was an insignificant pawn in my little game. I, for one, will not miss her. How's about another part of the poem, hmm? That always makes me feel better.

_Four NCIS agents who want to go free,_

_They heard a gunshot in the dark and then there were three._

I'll leave you to your frivolous grieving now, dear fellows. Until next time."

* * *

So? How was it?


	10. Chapter 9

Summer Vaycay (wtf? Where did that come from?) at last. Well, technically my last day of school was on the 24th of June but... I haven't really felt like updating this until now. Okay then, hope you enjoy!

* * *

Tony was bored and sore. After hearing the gunshot, he had found it difficult to concentrate on the magazine and had set it aside. Not to mention the desk and handcuffs were not being the least bit merciful on his back. But this fact wasn't really important, as all he could think about was that DAMN gunshot.

Obviously it wasn't someone coming to their rescue. Creepy Voice had mentioned that Ziva needed punishment. Had the shot been meant for her? No. No, of course not. He pushed those thoughts out of his head. The shot had sounded from above, which meant it had to have come from Vance's office. Or MTAC.

* * *

Tim's arm was throbbing. The bleeding had stopped though, thankfully. It was freezing down there in the Cyber Crimes Unit. Unsurprising, seeing as it was in the basement. But he couldn't remember it ever being that cold during his four month stint there a few years ago. Maybe Creepy Voice and his goons had meddled with the heating systems.

McGee heaved a sigh. At least the goons had finally left him alone. Unfortunately, he was about as far from any of the computer stations as he could possibly get. Even if he could have gotten to his feet somehow, stretched as far as physically possible, there was no way he could reach even the stray rolling chair ten feet away. It was impossible.

And though he tried his damnedest not to, he kept thinking that this was probably the end. They were going to die here. Even the feared and fearless Leroy Jethro Gibbs seemed to be felled by this anonymous villain.

Villain. McGee scoffed. Here he was, probably about to die in the frigid tech-filled basement of the NCIS building, and thinking about the situation like a novelist. Like this was some book or movie. Though it would make a pretty good one, Tim thought. Another sigh heaved. It was something to contemplate, at least, for the moment.

* * *

Pete had not spoken a word since Laura Albritton's death. His chin pressed against his chest, brown eyes cast sullenly downward. The others couldn't blame him. His partner's bloodied corpse was cooling not eight feet from where he sat. If Gosweiler never reentered MTAC after this ordeal was over, they would not be surprised.

"Do you think they've killed the others?" Jimmy asked, resignation in his tone.

Gibbs shook his head slowly. "No, Palmer. They're fine."

"How can you be so sure?" The ME's assistant challenged.

Gibbs was slightly taken aback by this. But only slightly. "My gut," Gibbs grunted. "I feel it in my gut."

Palmer did not have the energy or the stupidity to challenge the former Marine any further.

There were only three of them left. Three people. Three dolls. Three verses of that macabre poem. Then Creepy Voice would end his game and let them go. Or kill them. Either way, one of them would never finish the game. Laura Albritton would not be making it out of there alive. None of them wanted to believe that their friends- their family- had met a fate akin to Laura's.

The loathsome crackling sounded again. It was inevitably followed by the robotic voice. The lights did not go out. There were no drugs and no beatings. Were they becoming careless? Or just bored?

"Hello, my darling playthings. And how are we all doing? Well, I hope." There was a static-filled pause. "It's just about time for the next person to go," he told them. "Who's ready?" Creepy Voice said no more. There was a click and then silence.

In the next minute, two of the men dressed in black, balaclavas adorning their heads, entered MTAC. One took a doll while the other injected Palmer and began untying him as soon as his body fell slack. Pete and Gibbs watched on helplessly as the two dragged the young man from the room. Then they were gone, doors slamming shut with a note of finality.

The speakers crackled back to life only five minutes later. The game was speeding up.

"Ah that dear Medical Examiner's assistant. I have fun plans for him," the voice practically purred. "Now, for more of my wonderful poem.

_Three NCIS agents with nothing to do,_

_I removed the M.E.'s assistant and then there were two_

Fabulous," it boasted. "See you soon." Then it was quiet.

* * *

Palmer blinked as the veil of blackness surrounding him gradually dispersed. His glasses no longer rested comfortably on his face. In fact, they were not anywhere on his person. Nor were his shoes. But he did not need the glasses to realize something was not right. He was curled into a fetal position in the center of the squadroom's break room and was incredibly stiff.

Palmer tentatively slid his hand along the floor around his face, seeking his glasses. He did not find them. Carefully, he pushed himself up and squinted. He could see a few blurred objects on the floor in front of him. He could just discern that he was currently facing the door and that it was open. Wide open. Was this some sort of trick? Why leave the door open for him to escape? He considered the possibility that there were men with guns and knives waiting just outside, ready to pump him full of lead and then chop him into tiny bits. Jimmy shuddered at the thought of being diced up like a tomato. Like the meat puzzle from all those years ago.

With a shaky exhale, he maneuvered onto his hands and knees and began crawling silently toward the nearest blurry object. He was unable to hold back the scream as a sudden burning pain ripped through his entire being. Faster than he would have thought possible, Palmer leapt back into the space that he had previously occupied, shaking and panting heavily.

Had he just been electrocuted? By what? He brought his palm up to his face and observed the thin, red burn line running across it.

Crap.

He backed up further, only to be shocked again. Palmer yelped and scooted away, tenderly rubbing his burnt foot. Now he wished he had his glasses. Slowly, he got back on his hands and knees, bending his elbows to bring his face closer to the ground. Then he turned a full circle, taking note of the intricate arrangement of wires surrounding the roughly three feet by three feet space he was occupying. He also found that an object seemingly similar to the blurred ones he noticed before was resting only a couple feet away. It was a small, rectangular, black box with flashing red light and a small screen displaying what he assumed to be a voltage level, though he could not make out the numbers. And he was not especially eager to crawl over and find out, either.

So Palmer stayed where he was, in an upright fetal position in the center of his safe square, as he ruminated over the situation.

* * *

Tony had not noticed the autopsy gremlin being dragged quietly down the stairs behind him. He did hear the distinctly Palmer-like scream that came only twenty minutes later. What the hell was going on?

* * *

The lights stayed again. Two more henchmen appeared. Like before, one walked down to remove a doll. The other moved past Gibbs, heading towards Pete. But this would not be like before. The moment the second one past him, Gibbs leapt out of his chair and grabbed him. He quickly gripped the man's chin with one hand and braced the other on the back of his balaclava-covered head and, with a swift jerk of his arms, the henchman collapsed to the floor, neck snapped. He had not even had time to reach for his gun, which is what Gibbs lunged for just as the first goon turned around. This one did have time to pull his gun, but that was all he did before he was falling to the ground with a bullet hole right between his eyes.

Pete sat staring, frozen and wide-eyed, until he felt Gibbs slicing away his bindings. He snapped out of it and stood slowly as Gibbs went to grab the other gun.

"Here," Gibbs tossed the gun at Pete and made his way to the door in several long strides. "Come on."

Pete snatched the gun out of the air and flicked off the safety, jogging after the man that was practically an NCIS legend. Creepy Voice had messed with the wrong Marine, ex or not. There would be hell to pay.

* * *

Not long now until the end! Did that make any sense? I don't know. It's late as I write this so I'm very tired. Aaaannnyyyywaayyysss, thanks for reading. I sure do enjoy a good review ;)


	11. Chapter 10

Gibbs and Pete slipped quietly out the MTAC door, keeping an eye out for any of Creepy Voice's men. There weren't any. The men made eye contact and Gibbs pointed down to the bullpen, where they could see Tony yanking at the chains binding him to his desk, then to director's office, indicating that they would check there first.

Tony, catching their movement out of the corner his eye, looked up. "Boss!" he whisper-yelled.

Gibbs put up a finger in the universal symbol to 'wait a moment' and then preceded Pete through the office door.

They found Vance cuffed to his desk much like Tony was. Dried blood crusted a wound on his head that did not appear to be serious. The same rope from MTAC was also binding his ankles. Gibbs swiftly sliced this with the knife he'd taken from the first henchman.

"How are we going to get his cuffs off?" Pete spoke in a hushed voice, as there was no telling where or when a henchman would be coming around.

Gibbs slid something out of his pocket. A handcuff key. "Pulled it off one of the goons," he explained, removing Vance's cuffs.

"How'd you escape, Gibbs?" Vance asked, rubbing his chafed wrists.

Gibbs smirked, saying nothing, an d helped his boss up. "DiNozzo's right downstairs," he told him.

They exited the office and descended the stairs, Pete and Gibbs with guns at the ready as they circled to the bullpen entrance.

"Boss," Tony whispered. "You escaped?"

"Yeah. Two henchman are dead. No telling how many more there are in the building." He unlocked Tony's cuffs but left him to fend for himself when it came to standing.

"We have to hurry," said Pete. "They might already know what's going on."

"We should stay together," Gibbs walked to his desk, pulling out a spare gun he'd hidden there and tossing it to Vance. Tony was already retrieving his spare. "No use splitting up just to run into each other later and die of friendly fire."

Tony walked over to Ziva's desk and began rummaging through one of her drawers.

"DiNozzo, what the hell are you doing?"

Tony came up with a triumphant grin on his face. "Ziva always keeps a spare knife in here." He pocketed the object in question.

"Guns?" Pete whispered.

Tony shook his head. "She always has those on her. Would've been taken when we were captured."

"Alright, now that DiNozzo's done snooping through his partner's desk, let's go," Vance ordered.

With Gibbs leading the way, they left the bullpen, then stopped.

"We don't know where anybody is," he said. "Where do we start looking?"

"We can't check everywhere," Vance agreed. "Obvious places first. I was in my office. Common sense would say we'll find Dr. Mallard in Autopsy and Ms. Sciuto in her lab."

"Okay. Let's go."

"Wait!" Tony stopped him. "I heard Palmer scream earlier. It was pretty close. We should check for him while we're here." He gestured for the others to follow as he strode in what he believed to be the general direction of the screaming.

They passed the bathrooms, both empty. They continued on and Tony peered into the open break room doorway.

"Boss," he called, just as an armed henchman rounded the corner. He did not seem to notice them at first, gaze fixed on the smartphone in his gloved grip. Gibbs used this to his advantage, running quickly but stealthily toward the man. He looked up as Gibbs's movement caught in his peripheral vision, but not in time as Gibbs tackled him to the ground and snapped his neck Marine-style. Guns were loud and it was best to subdue the henchman without one whenever possible.

The silver haired fox rejoined the other men as they stopped short just before entering the break room. Wires and the occasional black box lined the floor, no doubt supercharged with electricity. Palmer sat in a small square in the center of it all, looking as if he was trying his best not to move.

"Palmer, you hurt?" Tony asked, trying to judge the best way to get around this mess.

"Just my hand and foot. I burned them," Jimmy explained. "And a small head wound. But we all have those, I'm sure."

Tony nodded, rubbing the tender spot on his head as if just remembering.

"Well the goons had to have turned all this on _after_ they got around of the room. There must be a switch nearby," Pete speculated.

"Unless it was remotely activated," replied Vance.

"I don't have my glasses," said Palmer. "I can't see anything."

"Just hang on, Palmer," Tony told him, eyes scanning the room. He spotted the assistant's glasses across the room, halfway under the vending machine.

"There," Gibbs spoke up suddenly, pointing to a switch against the wall. It was taped about a foot off the floor, five feet from the doorway.

"We can't reach that," Vance said. "We need to find something long enough to flick the switch with."

Pete disappeared momentarily. He returned with a meter stick he'd stolen from one of the desks in the squad room.

Tony, being the tallest of the four, of course had the longest arms. He took the meter stick in his right hand, leaning against the doorframe and supporting himself with his left. He stretched the stick out to the switch, pleased when it reached with distance to spare, and knocked the switch to an 'off' position with the flick of his wrist.

"Test the wires, Palmer," he told the younger man.

Sensing that resistance was futile, Jimmy reached out a tentative finger and lightly tapped a wire, releasing a relieved sigh when nothing happened. He heaved himself off the ground and scrambled to the door.

Tony tossed the meter stick and retrieved the glasses, which Palmer accepted gratefully. They did not have time to search for his shoes and the quintet moved down the stairwell to Abby's lab as quickly and quietly as possible. The elevator would have been too risky.

The lab was being guarded by only one man, who was immediately dealt with after only a slight struggle.

Abby felt a rush of joy when the men stepped into her lab. "Gibbs! Tony!"

They sidestepped the sharp instruments fixed to the ground and Pete, Vance, and Palmer supported Abby and the net while Gibbs and Tony cut it down. They soon had her safely on the ground and away from the danger of being impaled to death.

"Where are the others?" Abby asked, smoothing out her skirt.

"We have to find them," replied Tony. "We're going to Autopsy next."

Abby squeezed the three closest men, Tony, Gibbs, and Jimmy, into a tight hug. "Thanks for saving me."

"No problem, Abbs. Come on," Gibbs beckoned. "My gut tells me we haven't seen the last of the henchmen."

"How many have you killed?" Abby questioned, trailing behind Gibbs and remaining between Pete and Tony.

"Four, so far."

They descended one more flight of stairs that brought them right to the door of Autopsy. There were no guards here. Why guard an elderly man?

Ducky turned his head and upon recognizing the new arrivals, began speaking in the manner they were oh so accustomed to. And in this case, even Gibbs found that he did not so much mind hearing his friend's rambling voice.

"Oh, thank goodness. The cavalry has arrived," Ducky declared and he was released from his bindings. "You know, surprisingly enough, this situation reminds me of a time when I was a boy. It was just after..." He droned on as Jimmy and Abby helped his stiff form off the exam table and they allowed him a moment to stretch and gain his bearings.

At a lull in the story-telling, Palmer took the opportunity to ask, "Are you alright, Doctor? Do you have any injuries that need to be tended to?"

Ducky paused and shook his head. "No, no. I'm quite alright, Mr. Palmer. Just a small bump on the head is all. What about the rest of you?" He eyed each of them quickly but carefully, lingering just a moment longer on any visible wounds.

"My burns," Palmer spoke up, displaying the one on his hand. "They need some ointment or they will become infected."

"Hurry it up," Gibbs commanded. "The rest of us have some minor cuts and concussions, but they'll have to be dealt with later. We still need to find Ziva and McGee."

Ducky applied a cream to Palmer's burns before wrapping them in gauze for the time being.

"They could be anywhere in the building," said Pete. "Where do we start looking?" Most of them shrugged.

"I have an idea," announced Jimmy.

"What is it, Palmer?" Tony asked anxiously.

"Well, Agent McGee is the computer pro, right? And he spent some time in Cyber Crimes. Maybe he's there. Abby was in her lab, Dr. Mallard was here. It only makes sense..." He trailed off at the stares the others were giving him.

"That's a great idea, Jimmy!" Abby squealed, then caught herself and dropped her voice. "Come on, we have to go!" She grabbed Gibbs by the sleeve and dragged him out the doors and down the hall. Cyber Crimes was in the basement, just like Autopsy.

The rest followed at a quickened pace, those with guns keeping them at the ready.

Another guard was manning this door, staring at a smartphone identical to that which the break room guard had been carrying- the phone they had stupidly left behind. The group stopped and ducked back behind the corner of the wall, thankfully going unseen.

"We shoot him," Gibbs whispered. "We're in the basement, so hopefully no one will hear it." And on that note, he lifted his gun and swung back around the corner, firing and sending a bullet straight through the guard's heart. Five down.

The group rushed into the room, checking for other occupants before heading towards McGee. Vance and Pete stayed back to guard the door.

The young agent was unconscious. He had a bleeding gash on his arm and a red and purple welt blooming on his forehead. Tony reached out shook his shoulder gently.

Tim moaned, his eyes fluttering open. "What? Boss!" His eyes lit up with surprise.

"Timmy!" Abby swept him up in a hug as Tony unlocked his handcuffs.

"Oh Timothy, dear boy," Ducky said. "That cut needs attention right away."

"I- I think my ankle's broken," McGee replied. "I tried to stand earlier..."

"We need to find Ziva, Duck," Gibbs reminded. "You'll have to treat the cut later. Will it be fine for a while?"

Ducky lifted Tim's injured arm and examined in the dim light of the Cyber Crimes Unit. "Yes, it should be alright for now, Jethro. But it does need care as quickly as possible."

Pete and Jimmy helped McGee to his feet, allowing the agent to rest most of his weight on them.

"Any ideas where Agent David is?" the director questioned.

"Ziva was first," Abby said sadly. "None of us heard or saw where she went."

"Where would they put someone like Agent David?" Pete wondered aloud.

"The gym," Tony suggested. "She goes there a lot."

Nobody questioned how he knew this. They made their way to the NCIS gym. But it was empty. So were the locker rooms.

"The squad room would be the next likely place," Gibbs stated. "We didn't look everywhere up there."

Gibbs, Tony, and Abby rushed up the stairs, frustrated by the slow pace the others were forced to move at. They burst through the stairwell door and had to duck the frantic gunfire of a surprised henchman walking down the hallway. Tony put two in his chest and the man collapsed to the ground, gun skittering across the carpet.

"He was coming from there," Gibbs pointed. They hurried down the hallway. The other five could be heard coming up the steps behind them. Each and every door was pushed open as they strode down the hallway and they made no attempt to conceal the noise.

"Boss," Tony's sudden, choked call brought everyone over. He stepped into the maintenance closet and dropped to Ziva's side. "Ziva." He felt for a pulse in her neck, relieved when his fingers met a slightly irregular beat. He told them, "She's unconscious. But she's alive."

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Alright. About two chapters left to go. I feel like this chapter kind of sucked. A review or two would make me very happy. Thanks for reading! :)


	12. Chapter 11

I got a couple reviews for the last chapter so thanks to you guys! I won't waste your time rambling about nothing, therefore, on with the chapter! Sorry it's so short!

* * *

_"She's unconscious. But she's alive."_

_And then all hell broke loose._

Shots rang out. Bullets ricocheted off the doors and walls as three men moved quickly down the hallway towards the group. Two were dressed identically to the other henchmen, carrying handguns and flanking the third man. He was dressed in a charcoal suit and a blood red tie, gripping a gun of his own. It was him. Creepy Voice. He had a silver-blonde goatee, piercing black eyes deep set in his shining bald head. He was tall, muscular... and shooting at them.

"My naughty playthings!" he shouted. "Escaping results in death, my dears." He and his goons fired at the carpet near their feet.

Gibbs reacted quickly, pushing Ducky and Palmer into the closet as Tony rushed out, weapon drawn. McGee, weaponless, dragged Abby into the closet as well.

Gibbs aimed and fired, hitting one of the henchmen in throat. The henchman flew backwards with a choked cry.

Vance and Tony ducked and fired, missing. Pete cried out as a bullet grazed his side. He stumbled, firing, and hit the second henchman in the stomach. He collapsed to the ground, clutching the wound, as Creepy Voice stalked past him and pulled out a second, larger gun.

Vance grunted as a bullet clipped his thigh. "I'm out of ammo!" he called, dropping to the ground.

"S-so am I," Pete said, pressing his hands to his bleeding side.

Gibbs suddenly jerked back as a bullet slammed into his upper left arm. He didn't slow, continuing to dodge and shoot at Creepy Voice.

"Boss!" Tony shouted. He fired twice at Creepy Voice, missed both times. "Boss!"

"Get down, DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled. His left arm hung limp at his side. He shot once at Creepy Voice, hitting his kneecap. The man went down, still firing.

"This is the end, Agent Gibbs! It was fun, was it not? But I didn't finish my poem-" He cut off with a gurgle when Gibbs put a bullet in his neck. Slowly, he fell back, hitting the floor with a thud.

Gibbs breathed heavily, standing over Creepy Voice as the life drained gradually from the beady black eyes, no longer piercing.

"I'll finish it for you," he said. "_Nine sick bastards who thought this was fun,_

_We took them all down and then there were none._"

He stepped away as Creepy Voice's heaving chest ceased movement. It was over. The game was done.

* * *

But not the story! We still have injured agents to tend to! I'll try to update ASAP, thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 12

For a moment, all was silent and still. While the goon Pete had shot was still breathing, the bullet had clearly shattered the unconscious man's spine. Even if he woke up, he would not be going anywhere.

"Boss," Tony finally called. "You okay?"

Gibbs flicked the safety and tossed the gun. He waved the hand at DiNozzo dismissively. "I'm fine." He pressed his hand to the opposite shoulder, stemming the blood flow. The walls and floor were spattered and soaked with dark red. It was a gruesome sight.

Tony quickly shed his suit jacket and tore off a sleeve without a second thought. "We need to temporarily bandage the wound at least, Boss," he stated, leaving no room for argument- it was a brave and dangerous thing to do, considering who he was talking to.

"Fine." And with a succinct nod, Tony stepped forward as Gibbs carefully pulled off his own jacket. He held out his arm as far as possible and allowed his agent to tightly affix the suit sleeve to his bicep, covering the bloodied, penny-sized hole.

Gibbs nodded his thanks, moving the arm a little to test its functionality. It hurt like hell, but he'd had worse. "C'mon," he jerked his head toward the others.

Vance had made a bandage of his own and wrapped it around the wound in his leg. He was kneeling next to Pete, who held one blood-stained hand up in assurance as he told the director that he had it covered. His hand then moved back to his side next to his other hand to press against the bleeding gash.

"Go," he said. "I'll be fine."

Vance stood and nodded and followed Gibbs and DiNozzo into the closet. Together, they helped a limping McGee and a tearful Abby out.

"Sit," Gibbs ordered, pointing to the wall where Pete leaned, his jaw clenched in pain and his face pale. Once they'd complied, he turned, stepping over Creepy Voice's body and snatching the smartphone from the dead man's waistband. He tossed it to Abby. "Call 911," he told her. She was already dialing, fingers shaking so badly she had to clear it and begin again.

Gibbs strode into the crowded maintenance closet, where Ducky and Palmer were hovering over Ziva's still form in the minuscule amount of light as Tony and the director watched on.

Ducky glanced up, a frown on his face. "She's not looking good, Jethro," he somberly declared. "Quick, help me get her into the hallway." Palmer and Vance, the only non-elderly men without injured arms, stooped and gently lifted the Israeli-American off the floor and walked her out to the hallway before setting her down to the right of Abby, Pete, and McGee. The former gasped at the sight of her friend, whose wounds became more visible in the fluorescent hallway lighting.

Ducky, Tony, and Gibbs hurriedly followed them out of the closet.

"Mr. Palmer," said Ducky, "you attend to the others while I help Ziva here." He glanced over his shoulder at the agents slumped against the wall. "Timothy and Agent Gosweiler especially."

Palmer nodded. "Yes, sir." He rose and strode quickly to McGee's side, reaching for Tony's discarded suit jacket to use as bandages. The young assistant carefully began tending to the most pressing injuries.

"How is she, Duck?" Gibbs asked, kneeling next to Tony on the side of Ziva opposite to the Scottish-born Medical Examiner.

"He said she was going to be punished for something..." Tony said. "What the hell did they DO to her?" He reached out as if to touch her, but didn't, leaving his right hand hanging in the air just above hers.

Ducky raised her torn and bloodied shirt to just above her abdomen, revealing four bleeding, crisscrossed cuts over her bellybutton. "Oh dear," he exclaimed. "What could have caused this?" He used a relatively clean portion of her shirt to begin wiping gently at the blood and torn flesh.

"Looks like they used some sort of serrated blade to cut a pattern," Gibbs observed.

"Yes, well, luckily they appear to just be flesh wounds. No internal organs seem to have been damaged." Ducky shifted positions and began probing the area around the bullet wound in Ziva's thigh. "This, on the other hand, is not looking to be so benign an injury," he stated, attempting to peel away the thin bandage covering the wound, albeit unsuccessfully. The cloth was cemented to her skin with dried blood. Sighing, he eyed each of the others, all of whom had at least one injury. "We need to get some of you to the hospital as quickly as possible."

"I called 911," Abby announced, wiping at a stray tear. "They're sending ambulances and police."

"How long?" Gibbs asked.

She looked at the time display on the smartphone clutched in her pale hand. "Five minutes."

"I'll go down and wait for them," Gibbs said, getting to his feet. He walked to Creepy Voice once again, pulling a gun from his lifeless grasp- just in case- and departed towards the far elevator with a nod.

The ensuing silence was broken a moment later by a quiet moan from Ziva.

"Ziva!" Tony sprung to action, leaning over his partner with an anxious expression on his face.

"Tony?" Ziva murmured, eyelids fluttering, but not opening.

"I'm here," he told her. "We're all here. You're safe."

"I..." She couldn't seem to speak more than one word at a time.

"There's an ambulance on the way, my dear," Ducky told her, gently patting her shoulder.

"Hey, wait a minute," Abby glanced around, seemingly to assure herself of something before continuing, "What about Agent Albritton?"

At this, Pete and Palmer frowned. "She's... dead," Palmer whispered. A couple heads snapped up at this forlorn proclamation.

"The bastards shot her in the head," Pete growled quietly. His hands, had they not been busy applying pressure to his wound, would have clenched into fists. "Point blank."

For a while, no one spoke, content to remain in a mournful silence for the fallen agent. Ziva had drifted back into unconsciousness.

At last, the EMTs rushed down the hall toward them, led by Gibbs. The six men and women crouched beside the patients needing the most attention: McGee, Ziva, and Pete. Once they were given any necessary immediate treatment and Ziva and McGee were strapped onto to gurneys- Pete insisted on walking- they quickly made their way down to the waiting ambulances.

Gibbs turned to the remaining people. "FBI is on its way to take charge of the scene. We'll follow in cars," he told them. They retrieved two sets of keys and left the NCIS building to emerge into blessed fresh air.

* * *

They had to take two cars. Ducky drove one, with Abby and Palmer his passengers. Gibbs drove Tony and Vance in the other, despite his wounded left arm, and Tony found himself thinking that it was even more dangerous than being trapped in the building with a poetic, gun-toting madman. Finally they reached the hospital and hurried inside, anxious to hear the news on their friends.

The nurses did not have any news, to their disappointment. But they insisted on taking Vance and Gibbs- who had somehow managed to have the bullet hole in his arm go unnoticed- back for treatment, leaving Palmer, Abby, Ducky, and Tony in the waiting room with their less-urgent injuries. It was only 1730 and surprisingly, there were very few people in the ER.

Twenty-five minutes later, Gibbs reemerged with his arm bandaged and in a sling. His nurse, a kind, silver-haired woman in her late forties or early fifties, led Palmer back next to treat his burns and returned with the young man after ten minutes to retrieve Tony.

When he got back wearing a sling of his own, Vance had also returned, with crutches. Tony almost, though, thankfully, did _not_ laugh at the sight of the director in aqua blue scrub pants and still wearing his suit jacket and dress shirt.

The kindly nurse checked Abby and Ducky for serious concussions right in the waiting room, declared them "a-okay," and then escorted a teenage boy with baggy pants and a broken nose to an exam area.

Then a young doctor with curly blond hair and a thin layer of stubble pushed through the doors, followed by an older, darker-featured doctor sporting thick glasses and a mustache.

"Family for Peter Gosweiler?" the blond one called, just as the mustached one said, "Timothy McGee's family?"

Gibbs caught their attention, waving the two doctors over.

"They're my agents," Vance stated in an authoritative tone. Gibbs flipped out the badge he'd taken from his desk before they'd left.

Both doctors, seeming to take pity on the battered and exhausted group, nodded and looked at their clipboards.

The mustachioed doctor, likely the more-superior of the two, spoke first. "I'm Dr. Jones," he said, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I had an emergency I had to attend to before I came out. Agent McGee is doing well. The cut on his was only in the early stages of infection, but we took care of that and stitched it up. He also suffered a fractured ankle, which we got in a cast. The only other thing was a minor concussion, which should be fine by tomorrow."

"Can we see him?" Abby asked.

Dr. Jones nodded. "Of course. He's awake, too. I'll have a nurse come to escort you in a few minutes." Then he turned to the younger doctor, nodded, and left the waiting room.

The blond man smiled. "I'm Dr. Alex Bray. Agent Gosweiler had to have some minor surgery to stitch up the gunshot wound in his side, but he'll be fine. It's highly likely he'll be discharged by tomorrow. I'll send a nurse to escort any visitors, as well." He smiled again and exited through the same doors he'd entered.

"I'll go visit Agent Gosweiler," Palmer offered quietly. The others nodded. While none of them were particularly close to Pete, he was in need of company just as much, if not more, than anyone. It had been HIS partner that was brutally murdered, after all.

After five minutes of nervous silence, Dr. Jones returned to the ER waiting room tailed by two nurses, one male and one female. The three strode toward the group immediately.

Jones bobbed his head in greeting. He held another clipboard. "I assumed you were here for Agent Ziva David as well?" He posed it as a question, pronouncing Ziva's last name the American way.

"Dah-veed. And yes," Tony answered, raising from his chair. "How is she?"

The doctor frowned and scanned his clipboard before returning his attention to the people in front of him. "Agent David," he made sure to pronounce it correctly, "had one fractured rib and several cuts on her abdomen. We stitched and wrapped these, no problem. Her more serious injury was the gunshot wound to her left thigh." He paused, eyeing them thoughtfully. "Agent David was my emergency call earlier," he divulged. "During surgery on her leg, she went into shock. She had lost a great deal of blood and there were marks near the bullet wound that suggested she was shocked by a stun gun as well." Surprised looks passed across all of their faces- only Gibbs remained stoical. "Thankfully, we were able to resuscitate her just fine. We patched up the bullet wound and she's now receiving blood transfusions and an IV to replace the fluids she lost."

"Is she awake?" Tony questioned. "Can we go see her?"

Dr. Jones shrugged but smiled. "You can go see her. She's sedated at the moment, though. I'll take you to her." He pointed to the two nurses at his side in turn. "Nurse Beckett will take any of you to see Agent McGee and Nurse Nelson will take you to Agent Gosweiler's room."

Abby and Ducky followed Beckett to visit McGee, Palmer went with Nurse Nelson, and Gibbs and Tony followed Dr. Jones. Vance remained in the waiting room to make calls to SecNav, the FBI, and his wife.

* * *

Gibbs and Tony stepped quietly into Ziva's room once Dr. Jones left. She lay among the bleached white hospital sheets, IVs in her arms, eyes closed. They took seats in the bile-green-vinyl upholstered seats beside her bed, relieved to finally be free of the hell that had been their day.

After a few minutes spent in companionable silence, Ziva's eyelids began to flutter as she awoke.

"Hey, Ziver," Gibbs greeted, resting a calloused hand on her smaller olive-toned one. "How ya feelin'?"

Ziva opened her eyes fully, smiling when she saw Tony and Gibbs sitting at her bedside. "I am fine," she replied, observing their matching slings with a hint of amusement. "You?"

"We're good," Tony told her, flashing his signature DiNozzo grin. "Everyone is."

"I am glad to hear that."

"So uh..." Tony said, "Creepy Voice told us you needed punishing before. What was the naughty ninja doing?"

Gibbs smacked him with his good arm and shook his head, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He was glad his team- his _family_- had survived the ordeal, relatively unscathed.

Ziva chuckled and responded, "I managed to escape the handcuffs," and dismissed the matter with a light shrug. "Did you find out who Creepy Voice really is?" she asked, suddenly growing serious.

Gibbs shook his head. "FBI is working on it. Doesn't matter much, though. Bastard's dead now."

* * *

"Hi, Timmy!" Abby exclaimed as she and Ducky entered McGee's recovery room. "How are you?" She practically bounced over to his bed and gave him a surprisingly gentle hug.

McGee smiled. "Hey, guys. I'm fine. What about you?"

Abby smiled in return. "We're," she gestured between Ducky and herself, "both good."

"Where are the others? Are they okay, too?"

Abby nodded emphatically. "Yeah. Gibbs got shot and he has to wear a sling for a while and Tony, too, because his shoulder is dislocated and Palmer's burns are okay and Pete and Vance are all stitched up and some of us have some minor concussions but we're all good. Ziva was hurt pretty bad, but she's gonna be okay, too."

"Good," McGee breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just glad this whole thing is over."

"As are we all, Timothy," Ducky agreed with a small grin. "As are we all."

* * *

Tah dah! I'm still going to do an epilogue to wrap up a few things so it's not quite done yet, but there you go! Hope you guys have enjoyed this and thanks for reading!


	14. Epilogue

Ahh, the final chapter. An epilogue, really. I'm kind of sad to see this one end. It will only be my second complete multiple-chapter fic. I have a bunch of others I need to work on, too. Anyways, I'd like to thank all of you for sticking with me through this and I hope that you enjoyed it as well. Now, on with the epilogue. Sorry if it sucks.

* * *

2 months later...

Everyone's wounds from the hostage 'game' had, for the most part, healed, apart from Ziva's gunshot wound. Gibbs had stubbornly refused to continue wearing his sling after a month, after which he appeared to heal in typical Gibbs fashion- at superhuman speed. Tony had gotten his off after just a week.

Vance returned to work only a couple of day's recovery. Pete returned in two weeks, assigned to a month of desk work. McGee's ankle healed quickly, his arm, too, and he'd returned to work after a month.

A military funeral was held for Special Agent Laura Albritton two weeks after that day.

And, though the doctors had advised highly against it, Ziva had checked herself out of the hospital after a week- under the condition that she would remain on bed rest as much as possible. But, because she was ZIVA, after all, she was returning to work that day. Of course, she would be on desk duty for at least a few months. Her thigh muscles had been badly damaged by the bullet though, luckily, the bone had not. She had only been allowed to leave her apartment and return to work because of her repeated threats to bring about bodily harm with common office and household supplies if she was not.

After a bit of investigating, the identities and motives of Creepy Voice and his goons had also been discovered. Of the goons- all of them guns-for-hire wanted by the FBI- only one had survived, though, not unscathed. He was now a paraplegic inmate in federal prison, and would be for the rest of his life.

Creepy Voice, now known to them as Stephen Marcovitch, was a Brooklyn-born career criminal. Marcovitch was wanted and known for his thrill-seeking crime escapades throughout the continental United States and while NCIS wasn't his first victim, it had been his last. He had targeted both law enforcement and high-ranking business corporations and law offices, choosing victims based on an alphabetical system he'd devised. His first 'game' had been 'A' for Anaheim, California PD. Marcovitch had come to NCIS from a law firm known as Masters and Moriarti. Each game had left at least one dead, most wounded. Those hunting Stephen Marcovitch had kept things as quiet as possible and it wasn't until Marcovitch's death that a big story got out. Needless to say, Leroy Jethro Gibbs had been the first to successfully beat the criminal at his own game, literally.

And aside from any lingering psychological wounds, things were getting back to normal...

The elevator _ding_ed and Ziva stepped into the squad room for the first time in two months. She was forced to use crutches- not only by the doctors, but Gibbs and the team, as well- and though people had tried to oppose the matter, she was able to drive there, as her right leg was unhurt.

The team looked up when she entered the bullpen. Abby, sitting on McGee's desk, leapt up and ran to envelope Ziva in a tight hug.

"Yay! Welcome back!" Ziva kept a firm grip on her crutches to remain stabilized and the men rose from their seats, ready to help, if needed. "I missed you!" Abby continued, arms still wrapped around Ziva. "I mean, I know I just saw you a couple days ago, but it's not the same. I missed seeing you here."

Ziva chuckled. "I missed you, too, Abby."

At last, the perky scientist released her and she wobbled unsteadily. Tony jumped forward but Ziva raised her right crutch, stopping him.

"I am fine." She moved to sit at her desk. While she would never admit it, her leg was hurting. She'd refused to take the painkillers the doctor had prescribed, opting instead for aspirin. Tony still hovered and she shot him a glare, albeit half-hearted.

"Good to have ya back, Ziver," said Gibbs.

"It's good to be back, Gibbs."

And it was, because their family was alive. It took a lot more than Stephen Marcovitch to bring them down.


End file.
